iWork?
by iSnarkaholic
Summary: Sam gets a real job!  The pay is good...but the perks are great!  Carly/Sam CAM
1. Chapter 1

iWork?

Synopsis: Sam gets a _real_ job(!) The pay is good...but the perks are great!

Pairing: Carly/Sam

Disclaimer: I own iCarly!...was that the alarm clock?... damn it, no I don't!

Rated: "M" for language, and for "Major CAM",_ in the last 5 chapters only_. If you're not into "M" rated stories, I invite you to read chapters 1 through 4, (all of which wouldbe designated as "T" _if_ we were allowed to rate individual chapters). Whether you stop at the end of chapter 4, or read the entire story, my sincere thanks for your interest in my work; and _special thanks_ if you take a minute at the end and leave a review.

Genre: Romance/Drama

Current Muse: House Of Stone and Light (Martin Page)

CARLY:

For a long time I had suspected that Sam might have certain repressed...uh...tendencies...ones that she was desperately trying to hide from me, not to mention the rest of the world. I never brought up the subject because I didn't want to upset her...but she could have confided in me...I'd have been totally supportive.

After all, it's something that some people are just born with.

It's understandable that she didn't want anyone to find out...I realize how insensitive people can be...but all the signs were there, no matter how hard she tried to hide them.

I guess the first time I really suspected it was after a comment she made when we were fifteen, and she was sitting really close to me, her head on my shoulder, as we watched the Food Channel.

Then, one eventful evening, almost a year later, she outed herself.

I was recovering from a nasty bout with the flu, and was looking at several more days in bed. Most of my symptoms were gone, but I was so weak that the doctor had forbidden me to get up.

It was late in the evening and, while I was lying there, listening to the rain glancing off my windows, Sam walked quietly into the room and sat down on the edge of my bed. By the soft glow of the table lamp, I saw her watching me, looking excited, yet slightly nervous.

Finally, with a warm smile, and without a word, she leaned forward and shyly kissed my forehead. She pulled back and looked deeply into my eyes, hesitated for a long moment, and then she...handed me the best bowl of chowder I've ever had in my entire life!

After that, it was impossible for her to hide it any longer...Sam was obviously a natural-born chef.

SAM:

"Carls, why do so many soup recipes not call for garlic?" We were fifteen, and I was sitting really close to her, my head on her shoulder, as we watched the Food Channel.

She moved away and gave me a very odd look. "What?"

"Well...it's just...that it would be such an improvement, you know...flavor-wise."

I thought that I had somehow offended her, but she soon leaned against me again, and gently moved my head back onto her shoulder...but her mind seemed to be elsewhere...

CARLY:

I guess I should have realized that Sam would gravitate toward a career in the culinary arts, since she and food are generally inseparable, but I didn't put two and two together at first, simply because a restaurant job is a lot of work, which, as everyone knows, Sam avoids as much as possible.

And, sure enough, when word got around that a restaurant had hired her, the insensitivity started:

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah, Gibby?"

"What's this I hear about you working hard?"

"Shut up, hobknocker! I have many faults, but working hard is NOT one of them!"

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah, Freddie?"

"Congratulations!"

"For what?"

"I just read your new cookbook: 'One Thousand Things You Can Do With Ham'."

"Oh, yeah? Well I just thought of one thousand AND ONE!"

SAM:

"Samantha Puckett, this court sentences you to sixty hours of community service."

"Aw, but all I did was..."

"Would you like to try for eighty?"

I glanced across the courtroom, and saw Carly giving me 'The Look'.

I shut my mouth.

The judge cleared his throat, impatiently, and I turned back to face him.

"You have two options: working at the Sunnyside Avenue Soup Kitchen, or picking up trash in Meridian park."

It was an easy choice. "The soup kitchen, sir."

I hadn't cooked much at home, since the fridge at my house is usually pretty empty, and Carly or Spencer always fed me at their place...but one thing I did do was watch the Food Channel.

Constantly.

Actually the gig was a lot easier than I'd expected. Instead of cooking, I only had to hang around the dining area's steam-table, and dish out food.

For the first two weeks.

Then, early one Saturday morning, (way too early, in fact), the dining room director called me into the kitchen.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Make soup. "

I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. "Huh?"

"Chef Mackenzie will be in late this morning. Make soup."

"It's only eight-thirty."

"Yes, but it has to be ready by eleven."

"What kind am I supposed to make?"

"I don't know..._you're_ the cook...figure it out."

I was thinking of Carly the whole time I was making the huge vat of creamy vegetable chowder.

It was just past noon, and I was back on the serving line, when I heard chef Mackenzie, in the kitchen, talking to his lunch-shift cooks. "Who made this chowder?"

No one spoke.

"I asked a question, I expect an answer...who made it?"

Someone mumbled something, and then I saw him walk across the dining area, and over to me.

"Can I please see you in the kitchen?"

I didn't know chef Charles McKenzie, but I'd heard that he worked at some nearby hotel, and that he volunteered here three mornings per week. I followed him nervously, wondering if he preferred to criticize me privately, rather than humiliate me in front of the two hundred or so people who were in the dining room.

He led me over to one of the kitchen counters, where I saw a half-eaten bowl of chowder, with a spoon sticking out of it.

"You made the soup today?"

"Yes, Chef."

"This is_ exceptional_. Where else have you worked?"

"I haven't."

"Then you must cook at home a lot...for fun."

Still incredibly high from his compliment, I didn't correct him.

"So...what else can you make?"

Okay, I admit I embellished the list a bit, but from watching so many cooking shows, I knew what other kinds of stuff I was capable of doing. In my opinion, cooking's not about memorizing a bunch of recipes; it's really just common sense.

I asked about the menus at his hotel's restaurants, and then we discussed, in detail, the good and bad points of the various Seattle gourmet restaurants I'd been to (thank you, Spencer, for all those birthday dinners you took me and Carly out for).

"So, how old are you, kid?"

"Sixteen."

He gave me a hard, appraising look. "Come over here," he said, leading me toward two chairs in a corner of the kitchen, to continue our conversation...

...and, fifteen minutes later, I had accepted an invitation to a summer apprenticeship at the Cerise Arbre gourmet restaurant, at Seattle's Vanderman hotel.

CARLY:

The world-renowned Vanderman hotel chain has locations on four continents, and has consistently maintained a Getty Hotel Guide 4-star rating since 1963.

The company is also a pipeline to the Windsor Academy of Culinary Arts, here in Seattle, through a program called 'Reciprocal Enrollment'...meaning that, in exchange for hiring students from the school, the Academy was willing to accept promising apprentices from Vandermans, often based solely on the hotel chefs' recommendations.

I helped Sam fill out the application forms.

At first I was puzzled by the fact that Sam didn't complain about the drudgery of working in a restaurant kitchen, especially after her...uh..._ordeal_ at 'Chili My Bowl', but I soon learned that a) she was working away from the customers, b) she was actually allowed to eat the food, and, c) the hotel employed a full crew of stewards to clean the kitchens and bathrooms...so, overall, I guess she didn't suffer too badly.

Long story short: considering how much she loves food, and how enthusiastically she talked about the job...the Cerise Arbre staff seemed to like her...and vice versa..

Often, she'd come over in the evening, and even though she'd frequently offer to cook for me, I'd rarely let her, knowing how hard she'd worked that day.

After finishing her summer internship (with an invitation to return), Sam still had to complete one more year of high school, and, to everyone's complete astonishment, actually put in (just) enough effort to pull her grades up to meet Windsor Academy's minimum requirements.

Between the hotel's tuition assistance, and a scholarship, plus a small student loan which Spencer, God bless him, had co-signed for, she was able to afford college.

After graduating from Ridgeway High, Sam worked at Vanderman's the following summer, and then began preparing (nervously) for the school's entrance audition.

I knew she'd ace it.

So Sam settled into her classes at Windsor Academy, while I majored in Communications, six blocks away, at Seattle's Carrington University...which was convenient, because of the money I saved on room and board, plus I got to see Spencer every day.

SAM:

"Come on, Sam," she begged, "if you loved me you'd do it!"

"I _do_ love you, Carls."

"And you_ know _that I love you."

I nodded.

"Then what's the problem?"

I shrugged. "I...just...don't want to."

"Please...just tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Carls. No."

"But...I_ need_ it!"

"No."

"I want it!"

"No."

"I've gotta have it!"

"No."

"You can't say no forever!"

"No! Now stop trying to make me!"

"_Sam_..._Please_!" She was standing only inches away, and I clearly saw the intense longing, and burning desire, in her eyes.

"Carls...you've got to get these urges of yours under control!

I felt her lips on my neck. "Please...for me?""

I whipped my head away from her...I can't look at that face and refuse. "I'm really sorry...I can't."

She was growing desperate. "Come on, just let me!" she urged, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me up against the wall.

"Stop that! I told you no!"

"But I want to so badly!" she insisted, frantically trying to push my sweatshirt over my head, and off my body.

"Carls...restrain yourself!"

"Why?"

"Because it's mine!"

We were fighting again. Over my sweatshirt. Not just any sweatshirt...my limited edition Cuttlefish 10th Anniversary Concert Tour hoodie, in steel gray, with hologram graphics artwork designed by the band's lead singer. Only fifty were ever made, and one of the highlights of my life had been the night I'd won it at their Bellevue Arena concert. Once it wore out I could never replace it.

As much as I loved Carly, and no matter how hard she begged, I never, ever let her wear it.

CARLY:

I made sure we frequently spent our evenings together, studying, at the apartment. I told myself it was mostly to keep an eye on Sam...to make sure she wasn't slacking off...but deep down I knew that it was also because I hated that we were spending so much less time together, now that we were at different schools.

Even after I'd finished my own assignments for the night, I always insisted that we review hers (especially if it was still "early enough" for her to go home).

SAM:

Carly's bed is so comfortable. I have so many wonderful memories...of waking up to the smell of bacon, tangled in the covers, usually with my head touching Carly's, which, for some unknown reason, often gravitated over to _my_ pillow. Of opening my eyes to her sleepy smile, and warm hug.

The only thing that was always missing was a kiss - not a peck on the cheek - a real one, but, hey, I wasn't gonna be an ingrate.

During college she dated a number of guys, but none of them ever seemed to hang around for very long. If she had been any other girl, I might have suspected that they all just took off after a fast hook-up, but Carly was absolutely not like that. When I would ask her why the latest one had ditched, she'd mumble something about that it 'just didn't work out'. I suspected that they left because she wouldn't 'put out', but I loved her too much to try to make her admit it, so I'd always drop the subject whenever she seemed uncomfortable...which she always did.

Every summer I returned to work as a cook in the hotel's kitchens, and then, right after graduation, I applied, along with almost two hundred other candidates, for one of the company's twelve available chef intern positions.

CARLY:

The response was swift and enthusiastic. Vanderman Hotels wanted Sam Puckett to be their new chef intern.

In London.

SAM:

It broke my heart to see Carly's expression when I told her. I had just a glimpse, for a split second, before she covered it with a brave smile, but I could tell that the news upset her. Badly.

"I'm sorry, Carls..."

"It's fine...I-I just don't understand why they're not going to let you do it here."

"No, those guys specifically requested me."

"So what exactly is a certified...what was it?"

_"Certified Master Chef_ . It's the highest level of certification possible in American culinary arts, and there are only sixty-two of them. This is an opportunity to work under not just one but two CMC's...so it's a fast track to an executive position. Then I can sit around with my feet up on a desk...and go back to slacking for the rest of my days."

"When do you leave?"

"In three weeks."

As I was falling asleep that night, I felt something brush against my arm and, looking down, saw Carly's hand, palm-up, lying next to me, on the mattress. I intertwined my fingers with her and pulled gently, and Carly moved across the bed, and into my arms. She rested her face against my upper chest, and, even though she made no sound, I could feel her shoulders trembling under my hands, and her tears soaking through my T-shirt.

"It's going to be okay."

"...I-I know."

"Don't cry."

"...It's just...that I'm going to miss you..._so much_..."

"It's only a for a year, Cupcake, and then I can transfer back to Seattle."

She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightshirt, then looked up at me. "Pr-promise me you will?"

"I promise."

I looked deeply into her eyes, wishing I could kiss her, wishing I could tell her how I felt, searching her face so carefully for any signs of encouragement, but she just nodded, and then lowered her head back onto my chest.

I rubbed her back and stroked her hair until almost two am, and then, completely exhausted, I tried to move her over to her side of the bed; but she just shook her head, and grabbed onto my shirt tightly, and lay there, on top of me, refusing to let go.

That night she slept, for the first time, in my arms.

During the three weeks leading up to my departure, I wrestled endlessly, desperately, with wanting to tell her...but that's not the kind of thing you dump onto someone's lap as you're walking out the door, headed for a plane that's going to take you off the continent. Especially when you have no idea how they're going to take the news.

The hardest part of all was the night before I left.

We were lying, together, on her bed, listening to the rain, when I tried to get up. "I'm going downstairs to make you dinner."

"No..." she whispered, tightening her arms, "...please stay here with me."

And she held me so close that I, for once in my life, completely forgot about food.

CARLY:

"I have something for you," I said, wrestling with my voice, to keep it steady. I knew she was going to love it...so why was I so nervous?

It was thrilling to watch her excited anticipation, and then her look of complete astonishment, as she unwrapped the insanely expensive Wusthof Trident French knife that I knew she'd always wanted...because every time we went into the restaurant supply shop she would hold it for a very long time, before reluctantly letting the salesman put it back into the case.

I had never seen Sam speechless before. Ever.

Finally, she managed to get out, "Oh, Carls...why?"

"Because the salesman was getting tired of dragging it out every time he saw you walk through the door."

"No, seriously...why?"

"So you'd have something to remember me by."

"Right...like I could..._ever..._for...for..."

Suddenly she turned away from me and rested her forehead in her hand.

"Come here." I pressed myself against her back and wrapped both my arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against me, resting my head against hers, pretending I didn't feel how badly she was shaking...

"C-carls...I'm...I'm...not..."

"I know you're not, honey...I know..."

SAM:

She hadn't offered to come to the airport with me, and I hadn't asked her. I knew how much it would hurt her to see me walk away, and, if she was there, I don't think I would have been able to...

That morning it seemed forever that we stood by her front door, neither of us saying anything. I was expecting tears from her, and had a clean handkerchief in my back pocket, just in case, but she just looked at me for what seemed an eternity, then, suddenly, she put her arms around my shoulders and hugged me. I held her close, flattening her chest against mine, memorizing the moment, wanting to be able to recall every detail, every day, for the next twelve months.

Too soon, she pulled back, and looked into my eyes, and then, laying a hand against my cheek, leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. Before I could recover from my surprise, and kiss her back, her forehead was on my shoulder.

"Carly, I'll..." without looking up, she rested her fingers gently against my lips.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I picked her up off her feet, and hugged her one last time, and then, gently setting her back down...I walked out...without a word...without looking back.

I'm going to tell her. When I come back, if she's not attached, I'm going to tell her.

CARLY:

I put off going upstairs for as long as I could. The bed was going to be so empty without her.

Finally I had no choice, because Spencer was shellacking his latest sculpture, and the fumes were really getting to me.

Leaning out my open bathroom window, I drew in deep breaths of the damp, late-night Seattle air, trying to clear both my lungs, and my head. How was I ever going to get through the next twelve months? Not finding an answer, I got undressed and took a very long a shower, trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, and then I put on my pajamas (is it pathetic for a twenty-one year-old to still wear Bunny Luv nightshirts)?

As I turned down the covers on my side of the bed, I froze. Neatly laid out on top of the sheet was a familiar, steel gray Cuttlefish sweatshirt. With a note.

'Please keep this warm for me until I come back.'


	2. Chapter 2

SAM:

"Puckett! you're entitled to a day off, you know!"

"Huh?" I looked up from the huge pile of Dover sole I was filleting, to find chef Renee Ziegler, arms crossed, leaning against the opposite wall, watching me, with the usual, flat expression on his face. You can never tell what that man is thinking. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not the only person who's noticed that you practically live in this kitchen."

"Should I transfer to different one?"

"You're missing the point...it's like you never leave the hotel."

"Well...uh...I'm here to learn."

"You're the most disciplined person I've ever met...or the craziest."

I looked back down at my cutting board, and smiled sadly. If you only knew the real me...and the real reason I can't bring myself to leave...

Sometimes, though, they'd force me to take a day off, and I'd wander, aimlessly, through the streets of London, taking in the sights...but it wasn't any fun without her.

I never let a day go by without calling, texting, or emailing...telling her that everything was fine, and asking what she was up to...which was mostly being an underpaid (and completely unappreciated) lackey, at her new position at S.B.S. in Seattle.

Unfortunately, even with high college grades (like hers), entry-level newscaster jobs are practically non-existent; you have to work your way up through the ranks, and it can take years. Still, Carly and broadcasting were made for each other, and I knew it was what she really wanted, so I frequently offered encouragement, especially when she seemed frustrated.

CARLY:

'Eyes on the prize!'

I looked up from Sam's latest text message, and smiled. Only thirty-seven more days...

SAM:

I perched, nervously, on the edge of my chair in the spacious food and beverage director's office, wishing I'd had time to exchange my grungy chef's jacket for a clean one, and listening to the BBC radio broadcast playing softly in the background, while I watched Edward Marshall pacing back and forth, endlessly, behind his mahogany desk, reading a huge sheaf of papers in a manilla folder he carried, his footsteps muffled by the deep plush carpeting under our feet.

Finally, he sat down, and looked across the desk at me.

"Well, Miss Puckett, there _is_ a sous chef's position open at our Seattle property."

"Great!"

"Unfortunately, it's in their high-volume restaurant. I know that your talents and interests are more suited to gourmet."

"Oh, uh...well, I guess it would still be okay."

He leaned back in his chair, and was silent for a moment. "If you were to take that spot, when a position opens up in one of their four gourmet rooms, which it eventually will, you'd be one of the first in line."

I nodded.

"I've notified their F&B department that you might be interested and, based on your final evaluation, plus the two letters of recommendation in your file, they're offering you first right of refusal."

Easy choice. "I accept."


	3. Chapter 3

CARLY:

June 17:

It was well past midnight when I walked, gratefully, through my front door, after another day of S.B.S. hell. I think the network's new slogan should be: 'You can't have S.B.S. without B.S.'!

I hung up my jacket, and then walked into the kitchen, over to the 'Sam's coming Home!' calender attached to the fridge, and marked off another square. Only nine more days!

There was a note on the kitchen table: 'Dinner's in the oven'.

I was so glad Spencer did the cooking on nights like this...when I absolutely did not feel like it. I pulled out the covered casserole dish, lifted the lid, and almost dropped both.

It was full creamy vegetable chowder.

As I ran through the apartment, looking for her, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Bon Apetit."

"Where are you?"

"You've heard of eat-and-run? Well this is cook-and-run!"

"What do you mean?"

"I was there for five hours, then I had to leave. When did you get in?"

"Just now...and you'd better have your butt back inside my house in the next thirty minutes!"

"Or else?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do."

"Panties!"

"Arrgh! Stop that!"

"Don't make me say it again!"

"Okay, okay! Look, I'm really sorry, Carls...I'm at the hotel. They wanted to see me about the job."

"In the middle of the night?"

"They somehow managed to lose all my paperwork."

"So? Do it tomorrow."

"I can't...some of the documents have to be express-mailed first thing in the morning.

"But..."

"Look...I'll see you there, tomorrow, as soon as you get home from work."

"Forget work; I'm calling out!"

"Oh, no you're not!"

"Oh, yes I am!"

"No...work first, Sam later...I promise I'll be there."

"But..."

"Carls!"

"But..."

"Look, I'll make a deal with you: Go to work...like a good girl...and I'll make anything you want for dinner."

"_Anything_?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Well...okay..."

June 18

6:32 pm:

As I breathlessly flung open the door to my apartment, there she was, leaning against the kitchen counter, chewing happily. "Gotta love prosciutto; it's ham with a pedigree."

I raced to the kitchen, and flung myself into her arms.

SAM:

I hope she didn't notice how nervous I was that evening.

CARLY:

I hope she didn't notice how nervous I was that evening.

SAM:

"Here, let me help," she offered.

"That's not necessary, Carls."

"I insist!" she said, actually picking me up, and carrying me several steps away from the work island, before taking my place at the cutting board. To humor her, I let her...

I leaned against the counter, in my best approximation of a nonchalant pose, and asked, "So, uh, how's the newscasting biz?"

She shrugged. "One big blur of Skybucks coffee runs for my boss, and a whole lot of flak from the idiots whom I shall euphemistically refer to as 'co-workers'..."

She looked gorgeous. I just stood there, drinking her in with my eyes, thrilled to be in the same room with her again, completely mesmerized, only half hearing what she was saying...

...but I did have the presence of mind to realize that she was making me extremely nervous...the way she was waving that knife around, talking and chopping at the same time.

"...then I said, 'you can't fire me...slaves have to be sold!' So if she thinks that I'm going to be intimidated by..."

(Whoa...close call! Focus on the food, Carls...focus on the food.)

"...and then that creep had the audacity to call me a no-talent hack! So I told _him_..."

I couldn't let her continue...it was too risky. "Carls, wait...before you _hack_ off a finger..."

"It's okay...I know what I'm..."

"Here, let me..." I walked up behind her, and pressed my chest against her back, my chin on her shoulder, so I could see what I was doing, and then I reached around and moved my hands onto hers...the girl never could hold a knife correctly. "See...like this..."

After positioning her hands and making a few cuts together, I moved my hands away, and let her finish by herself.

Finally she put the knife down, and leaned back against me, then tilted her head back and looked at me with a loopy, yet incredibly endearing expression on her face.

"What, Carls?

"I'm just so happy that you're here."

I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her, and kissed her cheek. "Back at ya."

With a sigh, she rested her head against mine...her hair smelling, as always, of her coconut shampoo...God, how I'd missed it.

I don't remember exactly how, but eventually, I managed to tear myself away from her and get dinner on the table.

During the bruschetta appetizer we discussed Freddie, who was in Silicon Valley, configuring mainframe hardware for Allister Global Technologies.

Over the chicken saltimbocca entree we discussed Spencer, who was exhibiting some of his work at a four-day show at the Lakewood Fine Arts Gallery, but would return home at the weekend, and was planning to make dinner for me then.

She'd requested Bananas Foster for dessert, and I was only too happy to comply...mostly because it's so much fun to flambe' with an unsuspecting person standing next to you. (I estimate that the highest jump I've ever "inspired" in anyone was 2.5 ft.) I added triple the usual amount of Jamaican rum to the saute pan, for a real 'ceiling scorcher', and, sure enough, it produced the desired effect.

"SAM!"

I turned to where she was now standing, halfway across the kitchen.

"Carls, what's wrong?" I asked innocently.

"I like happen to _like_ my eyebrows!"

"Uh...more than you like me?"

"Hmm..."

"Well?"

"The jury's still out."

"Carls!"

"Uhh..our ice cream is melting..."

When we'd both taken as much dessert on board as was humanly possible, I got up from the table, and said, somewhat reluctantly, "Well...you helped me with the cooking...so I'll help..."

"Later." She grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the couch. "Let's watch TV!"

"Okay," I said as I fell down beside her, "but please, _not_ the Cooking Channel!"

"Overkill?"

"Definitely...I need a break from..."

"Don't worry, Chef, I had something far more educational in mind."

"Like what?"

Triumphantly she held up a DVD case. "Girly Cow reruns!"

While waiting for the DVD to load, I struggled to keep my voice even as I casually asked, only half looking at her, "So...uh...how's your love life?"

"I'm giving up on men, and joining a convent."

Not sure whether to laugh. "Well, Carls, you do look great in black..."

In the past whenever we would watch TV, she'd constantly interject sarcastic comments, and then I'd try to top them, so sitting there in complete silence felt really weird. Finally, unnerved by the total lack of snarkiness, I glanced over at Carly, who was watching, stunned, with her mouth hanging open.

"What is it?"

"My God, Sam, can you believe all the innuendo...this is a children's show!"

Just past eleven pm, when we'd both had our fill of Girly Cow, Carly got up from the couch and stretched. "I'm going to clean up; you head on upstairs."

"No way...I want to help."

With a piercing shriek, she jumped away from me.

"Carls! What's wrong?"

"Repeat what you just said!"

"I...want to help you clean up."

"WHO ARE YOU...AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SAM?"

Laughing, I grabbed her from behind, lifted her off the floor, and carried her, legs flailing, into the kitchen.

"Put me down!"

I did, beside the sink, then I started to clear the table. As I reached across for a glass, I suddenly found myself looking into her eyes. Her hands were on the edges of the table as she leaned far across it, our noses nearly touching.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but I want my Sam back!"

"And...if I refuse?"

"Let's see, what word begins with the letter 'p'?"

"No!"

I put the dishes down, and chased her around the table. I could easily have caught her in a matter of seconds, but I deliberately held back, letting her think she was winning, smiling inwardly at the look of triumph on her face...and at how she actually thought she was out-maneuvering me.

Finally she did send me upstairs, while she finished in the kitchen.

I took a long shower, and then put on a T-shirt and my favorite pair of boxer shorts: the ones with the "tossed toast" motif, that I'd bought on Carnaby Street, in London. I got into bed, and grabbed a book...no idea which one...to try to take my mind on how incredibly nervous I was.

I heard her in the shower, and then she came into the bedroom, in her bathrobe. I buried my nose deeply in my book, like a gentleman, not watching her while she dressed for bed.

When she finally got in, we both lay there for a long time, shyly looking at each other, in the dim glow of her night light. She didn't speak, just watched me, quietly, expectantly, across the space between us.

Oh, man, what now? I hadn't planned for this moment, and desperately wanted to say something witty (or at least intelligent), but my mind was a complete blank. I lay there, wracking my brains, hoping she'd say something, but she didn't, and I, with a sinking feeling, realized that it was entirely up to me.

Then, finally, it hit me. "So...do you still want your Sam back?"

She smiled, shyly, and nodded.

I held out my arms.

Oh, God, it felt so good to hold her again. As she lay, motionless, with her cheek against mine, I braced myself: it was now or never.

Nervously, I began reviewing them, in my mind, one last time...all the things I wanted to say, that I'd been rehearsing (over and over) for the past year...praying that I wouldn't stumble over the words, when, suddenly, I saw her looking down at me.

"Sam...I love you so much."

Then her lips were on mine, and the world was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

When I awoke I was lying in her arms, with her hands resting against my back, under my T-shirt.

With a contented smile, she rolled us over, and pinned me beneath her. "Good morning, Chef."

"Back at ya." I leaned up to kiss her.

I passed out again while she was in the shower.

"Sam. Sam? SAM!"

"Who...huh...what?"

"Come here."

I put the pillow over my head. "Noooo..."

"Yeeeeah..."

I felt the pillow being pulled off my face, and saw her, in her bathrobe, looking down at me. "Sometime this week would be nice."

She leaned over, and wrapped her arms around me, and I returned what I thought was a hug, but then I felt myself being pulled up, off my back. I groaned as she gently hauled me to my feet, and then led me across to her dresser. I watched as she opened the top drawer, pulled out a neatly folded sweatshirt, and held it out to me...but I was feeling generous.

"Carls, don't you want to put it on one last time?"

"Well...actually...I never did put it on."

"What? Why not?"

"Because...every time I wear it means one less time that you can."

God, I love this girl!

CARLY:

June 20:

When I came downstairs this morning, she already had breakfast made, and was sitting at the kitchen table, with her face hidden behind the real estate section of the Seattle tribune, so engrossed in what she was reading that she didn't see me approach.

"Hey."

She lowered the paper. "Good morning, Cupcake," she replied, dazzling me with that beautiful smile of hers, as she leaned across the open pages, and kissed me.

"So...what are you doing?"

She looked surprised that I was asking, thinking that it should be obvious. "I'm looking for an apartment."

"Here, let me help," I said, taking the newspaper from her hands, and ripping it to shreds.

SAM:

June 22:

It was time to tell Spencer.

She wasn't thrilled at the prospect.

"Come on, Carls, what's the worst that could happen...he could run screaming from the room?"

"Actually, that might be the best-case scenario."

"What do you mean?"

"I have no idea what his position is on this."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"No. When I was growing up, the subject that was never discussed at our house. I think our parents liked to pretend that it didn't exist. And neither of us has any openly gay friends."

"I can't believe it's never come up in conversation."

"I know."

"But...you do agree with me that it's time."

"Uh...I know..."

"Carls?"

"Okay, okay...I'll do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Um, yeah..."

"Sorry, Carls, I need more insurance...and assurance...than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Ankle Swear."

"Sam!"

"Let's go."

"But..."

"On your feet, Missy!"

After the Ankle Swear, I felt more confident that she was actually going to go through with it...

...until that evening.

During dinner, which Spencer insisted on cooking (banishing me from the kitchen when I offered to help), I watched as Carly grew more and more uneasy, fidgety, and, well, I have to say it...downright klutzy. Spencer was oblivious to it all, his eyes riveted on me, as he made me recount, in tedious detail, all that I'd been up to for the past year.

At the end of the entree, I watched as her hands, shaking, reached for her water glass, holding it so tightly I was afraid she'd break it. "S-so, what's for dessert, Spencer?" she asked.

"You'll see, I just have to run to my room to get it."

Huh? "Why is our dessert in your bedroom?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "_Because..._that's where all my s_packle knives_ are!"

As soon as he was gone, I looked over at Carly, and said in a low voice "Dude, I know you're thinking of bailing."

"I can't do this!" she whispered back.

"Carls, two words: Ankle Swear."

"Sam, I'm scared..."

"Carls, just man up and do it! I'll be right here, holding your hand under the table."

"Okay...I'll...I'll tell him."

"Just as soon as we finish dessert?"

"Yes...I promise."

"And no eating seconds, thirds, and fourths to try to stall for time."

"Uh, I thought that was _your_ department, Sa..."

"Shh! here he comes!"

As Spencer came back into the kitchen we both tried to arrange our faces into passive expressions, and then we looked down at the elaborately decorated cake he had placed on the table between us:

'Congratulations Mrs. and Mrs. Shuckett!'

I turned to Carly, who looked like she had just been hit in the head. With a hotel. Turning back to Spencer, I asked, "Are we that obvious?"

"Not at all...I'm just very observant...it's the artist in me."

And, the next thing I knew, we had been pulled from our chairs, and swept up into his strong arms.

The next morning, after a private conference, Carls and I ambushed Spencer, hog-tied him with duct tape, and mercilessly tickled his bare feet, with his own paintbrushes, until he came clean: two days earlier he was sitting at the breakfast table, with his back to the front door, and, in the reflection of the toaster, he had seen us kissing goodbye.

Still, as welcoming of me (and us) as he was, his next move was incredibly insensitive: later that day he actually _sent Carly to her room,_ so he could speak with me..."man to man" (his words, not mine).

As I watched her stomp up the stairs, I thought to myself that it would have been more discreet, not to mention kinder, if he had just taken me aside while she was at work, but I guess he wanted to make it very clear to her that we had had 'The Talk'.

He didn't have to deal with the aftermath.

Right after our conversation, Spencer left for the junkyard, and I called, "Carls, you can come down now."

No answer.

I walked to the foot of the staircase. "Carls?"

Silence. Uh-oh.

I went upstairs, and knocked on the bedroom door.

No answer.

I knocked again. "Carls, are you in there?"

"No!"

As I opened the door I saw her, sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, hugging her pillow.

"Hey, Cupcake?"

"Yes...can I help you?"

Oh God...here we go. "Uh...I'm finished."

"Oh, so you_ finally_ remembered that I'm up here."

"Spencer wanted to speak to me privately."

"Whatever..."

"I just came up to see how you are."

"Don't bother...I know how busy you are...so you can just run along..."

"Hey, Carls, remember earlier, when you said you were in the mood for ice cream? Let's go right now."

"No, that's okay, I'll just stay in here, _by myself,_ and collect dust."

I didn't want to tickle her, but she'd left me no choice.

"Sam...No!"

I pinned her easily, zeroing in on that 'special spot', right above her left hip, which always leaves her powerless.

"Stop it!" she squealed, trying, unsuccessfully, to wriggle out from under me.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because," she gasped, "this a waste of my valuable energy...and yours!"

I stopped. "Yeah, but it beats having to deal with you sulking...for an entire afternoon."

"What makes you think I'll stop after just one afternoon?"

I resumed tickling her.

"Stop!" she shrieked..."

"Was that the end of it?"

"Of what?"

"Your attitude?"

She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.

"Well?"

"I love you...," she whispered in my ear.

I rolled off her and let her sit up. "Now, Carls, about that ice cream..."

She put her hands on her hips and stared at me. (Oh no, apparently, that _wasn't_ the end of it.) "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What did you talk about?"

"Carls, come_ on_..."

"_Tell me!"_

"Well...you know...guy stuff..."

"You mean like 'locker room talk'? Oh my God, Sam, did you tell him what we..."

"No, of course not!" (Not that there's much to tell, anyway...I mean, kissing someone's (upper) chest (through their T-shirt) hardly qualifies as x-rated behavior...but that's Carly for you.)

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because, Carls, it was a personal..."

"We promised each other no more secrets...remember?"

Damn. "Okay, okay!" Long sigh.

"Sam, I'm waiting..."

"Uh..."

"Come on...while we're young..."

"Okay! I, uh... promised him that I will never, ever hurt you."

"_And?"_

"...and...uh...that we're in no rush."

"_And?"_

"...uh...and...that we're enjoying each others company...and that's about it."

She folded her arms, shoved out her lower lip, and turned back to the wall. "That's it? Then why couldn't _I_ have been there?"

I didn't want to tickle her, but she'd left me no choice.


	5. Chapter 5

WARNING: This chapter contains _Swear Words_(!)

CARLY:

July 3:

It really bothered me to see Sam coming home from the hotel so upset...so often. I tried to find out what the problem was, but she'd always claim it was nothing, and then she'd immediately change the subject, so eventually I gave up, just assuming that the workload of a high-volume restaurant was finally getting to her.

I soon found out otherwise.

That morning, around ten-fifteen, she called.

"Hi, Carls, I left my pager on the kitchen counter."

"I know, I saw it there...next to the blender."

"Look, I'm really sorry to ask you to do this, but I'm covering two restaurants, and I really need it. Do you think you could bring it in?"

"Sure."

"I'm really sorry..."

"Don't be...I have the entire morning off. Besides, I'd like to see your new kitchen."

"Uh...yeah..."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic...is everything okay?"

"Um yeah, sure; see you soon."

Thirty minutes later I entered the hotel through the main doors, and found my way into the "back of the house" area, and, then, into the restaurant's huge kitchen, without too much difficulty.

Looking around, I didn't see Sam, so I flagged down a passing cook. "Excuse me, I'm looking for the chef's' office."

He pointed to an area at the opposite side of the room, but then I heard her voice behind me. "Carls, over here."

I turned to see Sam, sitting at a battered, graffiti-covered desk, in a dimly-lit corner of the kitchen, under exposed, rusty pipes, next to the dirty linen bin.

"Hi...this is your office?"

She looked embarrassed. "Uh, yeah."

"Wow, I love your decor!"

She smiled. "Yeah, it's sort of a cross between grungy dungeon, and slave galley...hey, will you hand me my oar?"

"Sorry, but the rats are busy chewing on it."

We were both laughing, loudly, when a tall, red-faced chef came barreling around the corner, a bottle of brandy in each hand. One was only half full.

"Hey, you two! Lower the volumes of your voice...I have a terrible overhang!"

Overhang? I couldn't place his accent, but it definitely was European.

Sam spoke up quickly. "Chef John Goff, this is my friend, Carly Shay."

"Nice to meet you, Chef," I said, giving him my most winning smile, while extending my hand.

He looked at me like I was three-day-old road kill, that he'd stumbled upon (in August), and then he walked away, without a word.

"So...uh...that's your boss?"

"Yeah, John Goff...referred to by most of the staff as Chef "JackGoff", you know...as in..."

"Uh, yeah...I get it."

"But, fortunately, he doesn't," she retorted, laughing, just as I heard...

"Bucket, get za hell over here!"

I mouthed the word 'bucket'?, but she held up her hand, and shook her head.

I could tell she was hoping I wouldn't follow her to the counter across the kitchen...but curiosity got the better of me. We walked to where he was standing, hovering over a cutting board piled high with potatoes, with a ruler in his hand...looking furious.

"Yes, Jack?"

"What is this bullshit fucking?"

"What do you mean?"

"I _specifically specified twenty pounds_ of _perfect, half-inch_ potato cubes..._specifically_!"

"Well, uh, yeah...but they're going to be completely pureed for potato soup...so why don't we just rough-chop them and be done with it?"

"Because, Bucket, there's za right way, there's za wrong way, and then there's _My Way_!"

She just stood there, with her mouth hanging open.

"Give me your knife!"

She handed it to him (handle-first, unfortunately).

He made one or two cuts, then looked at the blade, and yelled, This knife is bullshit, too!" as he flung it into the nearest trash can. Fortunately for him, it wasn't the Wusthof, or I would have made sure he went in right in after it. Head first.

"You know what, Bucket?" He picked up the cutting board and threw it, potatoes and all, into the trash can. "Start Over!"

Instinctively I took a step backward, clearing a path between Sam's fist and his jaw, but instead of swinging, she jammed her hands into her pockets, and bit her lower lip...

Wow...not fighting back? No wonder she's been such a wreck lately!

"Bucket!"

"But I..."

"Now!"

"Okay, should I get...," she began, but he was looking at something, over her shoulder.

"Hey...Hey You!" he yelled, and stormed across the kitchen, over to a cook, who had a 'deer in the headlights' expression on his face.

"You know, Sam...maybe this isn't such a good time for me to..."

"...wouldn't feed this swill to my dog!" we heard him yelling, and turned our heads...just in time to see an entire tray of plated desserts crash into the far wall of the kitchen.

I turned back to her. "I think I'll be going now."

"Good idea."

"Oh, uh, here..." I said, handing over her pager.

"Uh...thanks, Carls," she mumbled.

I smiled encouragingly. "Chin up, 'Bucket'!" I said, reaching over and smacking her butt, and then laughing at how high she jumped...

I was almost out the door, when I heard him yelling, "Hey! Bucket! I wanna talk to you...NOW!"

My poor baby...

SAM:

July 7:

I was sprawled on the living room couch...with a half-eaten Fat Cake in one hand, and the TV remote in the other...when I saw Carly walk through the front door, lugging a huge shopping bag.

I was off the couch in a New York second. "Oooh, Carls, whadja get? Is it edible? Please say it's edible!"

"Sorry to break your heart...but no. I bought some new pajamas."

"Oh."

She reached into the bag and pulled out two or three pairs. They really were nice striped ones, with buttons on the jacket and drawstring pants. Mostly in red...her favorite color.

I had to smile at how excited she looked.

"Aw, did my widdle Carwy_ finawwy_ outgwow Bunny Wuv nightshirts?"

"I got you some too."

"Me? What for?"

"Duh, to wear to bed."

"What's wrong with boxers and T-shirts?"

"Look, they're blue...your favorite color!

You know that blue is only my second-favorite."

"I know, I know...but they didn't have any gravy-colored ones!"

"But, Carls..."

"Will you please wear them...for me?"

CARLY:

July 12:

I had spent most of my afternoon with my eyes glued to the newsroom clock, just wanting the damned day to end.

When I finally did come home, I didn't see Sam, but her backpack was on the floor near the coat rack, and, as I entered my bedroom, I could hear the shower running, in the bathroom down the hall.

As I shrugged off my SBS blazer, I noticed some loose threads hanging from the bottom hem, and looked around on my dressers for scissors, but then remembered that I'd left them on the bathroom sink that morning.

In the past neither of us would go into the bathroom when the other was using it, but I didn't think she'd mind, so I knocked, and, when there was no answer, I figured that she couldn't hear me because the water was running. The door was unlocked so I went in and found the scissors, but then, in the reflection of the mirror, and through the shower curtain, I saw Sam...with her forehead leaning against the shower wall.

Something definitely was wrong.

I walked over to the bathtub. "Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay in there?"

"Umm...yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"I'm not sure that you are."

"I'm fine!"

"Sam, I don't think..."

"I'm fine! Really! Okay?"

She wasn't. I pulled off my clothes and got in.

As I closed the curtain, she turned to me, with a shocked expression. "Carls, what are you doing?"

Ignoring how naked we were, I simply said, "Something's very wrong, and you're not telling me..."

"But, I'm taking a..."

"...and I want you to talk to me about it."

"But, I'm taking..."

"Now."

She looked down, and didn't answer.

Reaching over, I gently lifted her chin and looked into her eyes very carefully for signs of tears, but she didn't look like she was going to cry...it was more like some weird combination of frustration and exhaustion.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay."

"No you're not."

Silence.

I put my hands on her shoulders. "Sam, talk to me."

She shook her head.

"Come on, you know there's nothing you can't tell..." Then I saw her left shin. "...oh my _God_, what happened to your leg?"

She turned around, and said, "Nothing!" a little too quickly, and, suddenly...

...I knew.

I turned her back around to face me. "He kicked you, didn't he?"

She turned her head.

"Answer me, Sam, did that son of a bitch kick you?"

"Did sweet, innocent little Carly Shay just utter a swear word? Dear Lord, what's the world a'comin' to?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

She reached for the shampoo bottle but I wasn't going to let this go. "Sam, listen to me! His screaming and hysterical flinging are one thing...but this is _not_ acceptable!"

She shrugged.

"Two words: Physical Assault. Go to Human Resources and get him fired!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the last two people who complained about _him_ got fired."

"Quit."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Look, it's only a temporary gig..."

"But, Sam..."

"No! I've put in all this time and effort, and the next move up is going to get me to exactly where I want to be, into a gourmet room _and_ away from him...and that's the _only_ reason I haven't put him in the hospital...yet!"

"But..."

"Seriously, Carls, I'm so close..."

With a sigh, I relented, and rested my hand against her cheek. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I know. Look, I'm_ really_ sorry for the attitude. You know I don't _ever_ want to take out a bad mood on you."

"I know. It's just one of the many reasons why I love you so much."

SAM:

I almost hugged her...but we were naked.

CARLY:

I almost hugged her...but we were naked.

After spending a long moment deep in thought, I took the shampoo bottle from her hand, and started to wash her hair. At first she looked surprised, but soon she turned her back to me, put her hands flat against the shower wall, and closed her eyes. She didn't say anything while I lathered, rinsed, repeated, and conditioned, but it did seem to relax her somewhat.

At the end of the final rinse, she turned around and smiled. "Well...uh...thanks," she said, leaning down and picking up the bar of soap.

I took it from her.

"No, Carls...you don't have to..."

"Shh...I know you've had a hard day. Just let me take care of you."

"But I..."

"Please." It wasn't a question.

I could tell she was nervous, but she let me wash her, knowing that I'd be touching her everywhere, but also trusting that I'd be gentle, and that I wouldn't try to take advantage of her...in any way. I took my time, caressing, trying to convey, without words, how much I cared about her.

When I'd finished, she asked, with her eyes, if she could return the favor.

I smiled and nodded.

It was adorable how shy she was...and how she blushed so furiously when she washed me...there.

SAM:

When we both had our pajamas on, she finally wrapped her arms around me.

"Carls, you always know how to make me feel better."

Her hand was in my hair, and I felt her arm around my waist, and her warm lips on my cheek.

"Still remembering your long, crummy day?"

I shrugged. "Kind of."

She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "I'll bet I can make you forget."

"Really? How?"

Without a word, she picked me up in her arms, and carried me over to the bed.

When she tumbled down beside me, I tried to climb on top of her, but she rolled over, onto me, and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her lower back, trying to get warm, because, for some reason, the room seemed colder than normal.

It was like she'd read my mind because, just then she said, "It's cold in here...let's get under the covers."

After that it didn't take long to warm up, with her lying on top of me, her lips on my face and neck, and her hands in my hair.

Suddenly she sat up, the covers falling from our shoulders, and, to my surprise, she slowly unbuttoned my pajama jacket, and laid it open. I gasped as the cold air hit me, then watched as she unbuttoned her own, opened it, and lay down, pressing her bare chest against mine, and wrapping her arms around me, and...Oh...My...God!

I felt her exhale, shakily, against my cheek, and my arms tightened around her back.

"Sam?"

I couldn't even answer her.

She pulled her head back, and looked at me, with concern. "Are you okay?"

"C-carls, that's so incred... "

"Shh...close your eyes."

"But...I'm not tired!"

"Oh yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"You're _exhausted_. You've had a long day."

"No...I..."

"You just worked a fourteen hour shift...remember?"

"Yes...but...I'm not..."

"Yes you are, Sam, I can tell."

"Honest, Carls...I'm...really...not..."

"Shh..."

"But...Carls...

Goodnight, Baby."

"...Carls..."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Time For Some "_GIRL/GIRL LOVE"! _(You have been warned(!)

July 18:

"Sam?"

I removed my lips from between her breasts, and looked up at her, questioningly.

"Come here."

One knee between hers, I crawled up, toward her face, and kissed her. "Yes?"

"No, come _here_." And I felt her body move downward slightly, as her hands slid down my bare back and onto my backside, outside my pajama pants. Moving her legs apart, she pulled me up, closer, until my knee was touching her.

There.

At first I wasn't sure, since, aside from having her pajama jacket off, she was still dressed, but then I saw the question in her eyes. She seemed to be waiting, looking at me, asking without words.

I nodded. "It's okay...go ahead."

She started to move against my knee, her hands wrapped around my lower back. I kissed her neck, and leaned into her, while she moved, tilting her pelvis up against me, and her breathing grew more rapid and sporadic, as I slid my hands under her lower back and helped, pulling her against me with each push.

After a few minutes she started thrusting against my knee, her hips jerking harder and harder, but I could tell that it wasn't working, and that she was getting frustrated.

I know the feeling.

I wanted to suggest that we take her pajama pants off, and maybe her underwear, but was scared to ask, since I'd never undressed her before, and didn't want her to think I was trying to push her into anything.

Finally she gave up, and lay back, looking incredibly disappointed.

Hoping she wouldn't get upset with me, I took her hand between both my own. "Carls," I said gently, "we could try another way...would you like to?" I caressed her hand.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry...I'm just so tired."

"I'm sorry, too...for what I just said...I wasn't trying to be push..."

"No, it's not that...I had a horrible day...you know how it is..."

"Yes...only too well."

"I know you do...Sam...and I wish there was something I could...uh..."

"Really"

"Yes, really."

"Then...um...would it be okay if _I_ tried to...uh...?"

Without answering, she rolled us over, reached down, and gently pushed my legs apart, sliding forward, until her knee was against me. "Go ahead."

I wrapped my arms around her, and tried, pushing harder and harder against her, over and over, until I was beginning to feel sore, but it just wasn't happening. Finally I gave up, too, and then I felt her hand against my cheek, and looked up into her eyes.

"Sam...would _you_ like to try another way?" She picked up my hand and kissed it.

I shook my head. "I guess I'm tired, too. "

Then she blurted out, "I'm so sorry! I promise it's not you...I just can't...you know..."

"Shh...Carls...I know...really...it's okay."

She looked near tears. "I love you so much, and I really, really want to..."

"Shh...I know."

"I_ really_ want to..."

"It's okay, Cupcake...so do I...and we will...just not tonight..."

Suddenly, she rolled over, pulling me down on top of her, then grabbed my hand. "Sam," her voice was shaking, "if you want to...you know...I'll...I'll let you..."

I kissed her. "I do want to..."

She had tears in her eyes as she kissed my hand, and moved down onto her upper thigh. "Then go ahead..."

"I can't...not right now..."

She was sobbing. "G-go ahead...I'll _let _you!" but she looked so upset, that there was just no way I could. It would feel too much like taking advantage, and I knew that I'd hate myself for it.

I pulled her to my chest. "Shh...look, it's just been a bad night. For both of us. I do want to, but..."

I felt her hand slide down my stomach, resting on my lower abdomen. "Then, w-will you let _me_?"

I shook my head. "Thatt would be nice...but..."

"Sam, _Please_?"

I shook my head.

"_Please!"_

"I don't think..."

"R-really, I don't mind..."

"I know. I just think we should try again some other time...okay?"

She shook her head.

"Some other time...okay?"

"But..."

"Okay?"

"S-soon...promise?"

"We will."

"No, Sam...Promise Me!"

"Yes...soon...I promise." I kissed her.

"I love you...really, I..."

I moved her head onto my chest. "I know...I know you do," I whispered.

She was shaking so hard. I rubbed her back, trying to calm her down, but she was still incredibly tense.

"Sam...I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"Everything...I..."

"Shh... Carls, will you do something for me?"

"W-what?"

"Will you cry for me?"

I felt her shake her head against my chest.

"Come on, it'll do you good. Please?"

No answer.

"Please?" I whispered.

She nodded, and then I heard a soft sob.

I wrapped my arms and legs around her, rubbing her back...

"That's it...that's my girl."

She was trying to hold it in.

"No...come on...come on..."

"I..I..."

"Come on...it's okay..."

I was relieved when she started to bawl.

I let her cry herself quiet, then went to the bathroom and brought back a cloth and washed her face.

When I got into bed again, I moved her head back onto my chest.

"Sam...I...I...don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything. And stop worrying...everything's going to be fine...I promise."

"Really?"

"Really."

I felt her kiss my chest.

"Look at me."

She did.

"Soon, Carls...I promise...okay?"

"Yes...I promise, too...okay?"

I kissed her forehead. "Yes..."

It sucks trying to sleep when you're frustrated.

CARLY:

July 22

11:38 pm.

In the dimly lit bedroom the two of us sat together, hunched over my computer...both of us extremely nervous...her left arm around my waist...her right hand covering mine.

"Are you ready, Carls?"

"...Y-yes are you?"

"...Yes."

"Are you sure about this, Sam?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

Her arm tightened, pulling me closer to her. "Okay then...on three: one...two...three!"

Together we clicked the mouse.

SAM:

August 4:

One look at my face when she walked through the door this evening, and she knew. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

"It...uh...came in the mail today...didn't it?"

"Um...yes."

"So...uh...where is it?"

"Um..uh...bottom drawer of the nightstand."

Seeing how red her cheeks were, I didn't follow her upstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

August 7:

"Sam...yes...," she sighed, as I, for the first time ever, pulled off her pajama pants, leaving her in only her underwear, the white silk ones that I love...and she knows it...which is why they're the only kind she wears anymore. She sees me sneaking peeks when she gets dressed and smiles, slyly, while I lose my mind.

I heard a low moan as I ran my hands over her backside.

"Carls...are you okay?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"If you want me to stop, just say st..." she silenced me with her lips.

I rolled her over, pinning her under me.

With my head on her chest, listening to her heart pounding, I finally did what I had been aching to do for such a long time: I slid my hand down between her legs, and lightly traced a finger up and down crotch of her underwear.

She was soaked.

I heard her exhale, raggedly, as I gently pressed two fingers against the wet silk, against her, and began to slowly stroke up and down. Her head tilted back, as her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, and she began to rock back and forth against my hand. "Oh...oh...yes..."

"That's it, Cupcake...that's it...this is gonna feel so good..."

"It already...does...oh, Sam..." she whimpered.

I pressed my fingers closer, feeling them sink between her outer lips, and then, found what I was looking for.

"Oh yes, oh please..."

I increased the speed...and she did too. Her mouth was near my ear, and I could hear her breathing begin to grow ragged and uneven.

"Oh...oh...yes..."

Then, suddenly, she stopped. "Sam?"

I stopped moving my hand, giving her a minute to catch her breath.

She kissed her way up my neck, then leaned up and breathed in my ear "Sam?"

I looked at her. "Carls?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes?"

She wrapped her arms around me, and I felt her shaking, as she said, "Yes."

I pulled back and looked at her again. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

I opened the nightstand's bottom drawer.

As I began to pull down her underwear, she put her hand over mine, and sat up. When I saw how long she hesitated, I knew what was coming, and waited patiently. (Take your time, baby, take all the time you need.)

Finally, she bit her lower lip and said, "Sam...there's something I need to tell you."

I put my arms around her and whispered, "You don't have to tell me, Carls...I know."

"But you have no idea what I'm going to..."

I pulled back and looked directly into her eyes. "Yes, I do. I know."

She hung her head, and refused to look at me

I took her in my arms, and rubbed her back. "It's okay."

She shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm_ so_ embarrassed."

"Carls, I_ promise_, it's okay."

"No it's not...it's pathetic...I'm _twenty-two_!"

I pulled back, and looked into her eyes. "And...uh...and you're in good company."

"What? No!"

I nodded.

After a very long moment, she put her head on my shoulder, and asked, in a small voice, "Will you go first?"

CARLY:

After Sam agreed to go first, I temporarily forgot my nervousness...sort of...

When I came back from the bathroom, I saw her looking at the folded towel in my hands.

"White?"

"Well...I thought that...afterward...we could...you know...hang it on the wall."

"Huh?"

"Haven't you ever heard of 'period art'?"

"That's not funny...or even accurate..."

"Lift your hips..."

While I was in the bathroom, she had plugged it in.

I was so scared. I didn't want to tear anything, or to hurt her in any way, and was prepared to spend as long as necessary on foreplay...waiting until I was absolutely sure she was ready.

I didn't have to wait very long.

Sliding my hand between her legs, I immediately felt how incredibly wet she was. It had seeped through both her boxers _and_ her pajama pants, and had started to spread down the insides of her upper thighs.

She knew what I was thinking, and looked embarrassed, but I smiled and shook my head, while moving my fingers lightly against her. "No...do you know what a compliment this is?"

She's so cute when she blushes.

I finished undressing her, and then leaned over, and looked into her eyes. "I'm going to be really careful...okay?"

She looked so scared, but she nodded.

I picked up the vibrator and held it for a long time. Then I reached over and placed her hand on top of mine. She covered both our hands with her other one.

"Carls?"

"Yes?"

"D-don't turn it on yet...okay?"

"I won't...I promise."

"I...I'm...not scared..."

"I know you're not," I said gently. "And there's no hurry...whenever you're ready..."

And, moments later, she had moved it down, between her legs.

I had never done anything like this before, and, as I positioned the head of it against her, I prayed that it was angled correctly.

"Carls...I...I..."

"I know, Sam...I love you too."

She was shaking.

I lay my hand against her cheek. "Shh...don't worry. Only a couple of minutes...and then everything will be fine..."

She nodded, and then lay back, and looked up at the ceiling.

I experienced The Most Incredibly Powerful Feeling of My Life, as I slowly pushed and twisted, watching as it gradually disappeared inside her.

I was concerned at the noises she was making, so I stopped for a moment and asked, gently, "Am I hurting you?"

Eyes closed, she shook her head...but I could tell that she wasn't being completely honest.

"Do you want me to stop...I don't mind if we st..."

"No...please...I want you to..."

It was going into her so slowly that I wondered if we should have bought lube, but, once I had finally pushed it in as far as I could, it slid in and out without too much difficulty, because of how wet she was.

After a few gentle thrusts, I pulled it out for a moment, and checked it carefully, to see if she was bleeding, and was relieved to see that she wasn't. Then I slowly pushed it back inside her, and I heard her exhale deeply. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and, as I pushed the exposed end of it forward, wrapping it up, around her clitoris, and pressing it firmly against her, she moaned.

"Are you okay?"

She looked scared, but she nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yes. G-go ahead..."

Reaching down between her legs with my other hand, I found the knob mechanism, located halfway along the cord, and turned it on.

To 'high'.

I felt her hands grab onto my shoulders. Then I leaned over her, and simply said, "Look at me."

We looked into each others' eyes the entire time.

During the next few minutes, incredible ones which I will never, ever forget, I watched as my Sam, for the first time in her life, willingly opened up to me...completely...letting me witness her entire spectrum of feelings, her face revealing secret worlds from deep inside her, voluntarily brought to the surface...amazing things, that she had always kept just out of my reach...hidden behind her eyes.

Until now.

My face inches from hers, I stared, awed, at this unfamiliar, yet fascinating landscape of emotions, as she lay bare her innermost self. I never wanted to stop looking, exploring, experiencing what she was so willingly giving to me...sharing with me, until...suddenly, she began to tense up, and I knew that she was slowly turning back inside herself, and that I was going to have to knock...again...another day. But I wasn't upset...I was about to see her surrender to me in another way. I was about to help her orgasm.

"Carly..."

"That's it..."

"I-I'm going to..."

"Yes...you are."

"Carly...I don't know if..."

"You can...and I want you to..."

"Help me...I'm so..."

"You're so beautiful!"

"But...I...I'm going to..."

"You're going to be fine."

"I'm going to...

Yes, Sam...you are."

"Carly!"

"Right now."

"Carly...please!"

"Now."

"Carly! I..."

"Now!"

"Car...uh...uhh...Uhh...UHH...UUUHHH!"

"That's it...that's it..." I held on to her as tightly as I could, feeling her body lurching violently, its tremors shooting through her, through me, then through the bed, and down through the floor.

"I...love...you so...much!" she gasped, her shaking hands gripping my shoulders.

"I know, I know you do..."

I had never realized that an orgasm could last so long, but she kept riding it out, her head thrown back...until, finally, she went limp in my arms.

I laid her back onto the bed, kissing her over and over. "You were wonderful."

I carefully removed the vibrator from inside her, then I looked down at her as she lay, having minor convulsions, trying to regain control over her breathing. "Oh, God...oh my God..."

I hugged her to my chest, and kissed her forehead. "How was it?"

"I've _never_..."

"Never?"

"...not like _that_!"

"I'm so glad."

"Thank you...so much."

"No, Sam...thank you."

"For what?"

I gazed into her eyes, and a long look of understanding passed between us.

SAM:

I've always used tampons. Carly hasn't. Ever. So I knew that from lack of experience, and from not being used to putting, or having, anything inside her, that she was going to be extremely nervous, and that this wasn't going to be easy...for either of us.

Reaching over, I took the wet vibrator from her hand, and started to get up from the bed, but she grabbed my wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"To wash this..."

She pulled me back down onto the bed and whispered, "Please don't. I want your cum inside me."

"Over here, Carls," I said, moving her onto the folded towel. She was so tense. I gently ran my hands up and down the front of her thighs, trying to relax her.

"Are...are you going to take off my panties?"

Arrgh...that word!

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes," she breathed.

I did. My God, she was so wet.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded, biting her lip, as I carefully positioned it against her.

"Try to relax..."

"Sam...I'm n-not...scared..."

"I know...we'll go really slow...okay?"

Even though it was extremely slippery from her using it on me, and she was soaked, I couldn't even get the tip of it into her...she was so tight. I bent her knees, then had her spread her legs as far as she could, and tried again...but it still wasn't going in...now what?

"Sam?"

I looked up. "Carls?"

"G-go ahead."

"I don't know..."

"It's okay."

"You know I love you..."

"Yes."

"So we don't have to if..."

"Please."

"But..."

"Please, Sam." It was not a question.

I hated knowing that I was about to hurt her, but I also realized that it was best just to get it over with.

Quickly.

I wrapped my other arm around her lower back, and then pressed the head carefully against her, hoping it was angled correctly. Then, with tears stinging the corners of my eyes, I leaned over her and braced myself, and then I pushed once, _hard_, forcing it deep inside her. After one jagged gasp of pain, she started to cry, and closed her legs around my hand.

"It's okay, baby, that was the hard part. We can finish some other time." I slid my free hand between her knees.

"Sam, No!" She was shaking so hard.

"Come on, just let me..."

"No! Don't!"

I tried to blink back my tears, not let her see that I was crying for the pain I'd just caused her. "It's okay...I won't make anything hurt anymore...I promise. Just let me see..."

Still sobbing, she shook her head. "No!"

"I promise. It's okay...come on..."

"But..."

"Come on..."

"But..."

"I love you so much..."

"I know..."

"...come on..."

"Sam...I..."

"...come on..."

Finally she let me open her legs.

She was bleeding. As I gently pulled it out of her, she gasped.

"I'm so sorry...it's okay...no more tonight, baby...I promise."

She grabbed my wrist. "Sam!"

"It's okay...you can let go of me...I promise, _no more_..."

But then she was pulling it back between her legs...

"Carls, no!"

...and pressing it against herself.

"No...not tonight..."

"Please, Sam!"

"But..."

"I don't want to wait anymore..."

"But..."

"I _can't_ wait anymore!"

"But...you're..."

"Please! I want to...so badly...ever since three weeks ago! Since then...I haven't been able to...to..."

It was true...we hadn't attempted to do anything serious again...since that night...and we had both been carrying around all that frustration ever since. I knew how badly she needed this, and wanted release for her, just as desperately as she did. But, still... "Carls...I..."

"Please." It was not a question.

I was as gentle as I could be while I re-inserted it, but it went in with difficulty, and from the expression on her face, I could tell it was hurting her.

"Carls," I began, but she put her fingers against my lips.

"Just...you know...help me..."

I turned it on to 'high', and began moving it, slowly, rhythmically, in and out of her, not stopping, trying to get her to peak, but after several minutes I could tell she was getting really sore and, eventually, both of us realized that it just wasn't working...that she wasn't going to be able to orgasm. Finally, I gave up trying, and turned it off.

She looked devastated. "Sam...I can't..."

"Shh..."

"...why?"

"Shh...don't worry...I promise we'll get there..."

"Sam, what's wrong with me?" She looked so upset...I knew she was about to cry.

"It's okay...we'll just..."

"But I can't...why can't I?"

"You will..."

"No! I try so hard...but I just..."

"There's nothing wrong with you...I promise..."

"She was crying. Then..._why?"_

"Shh...we're just going to try another way...okay?"

"Sam...I..."

"Okay? Please let me..."

"I..."

"Please?"

She nodded.

I carefully pulled it out, and then, gently moving her outer lips apart, I laid it, lengthwise, between them, pushing it close to her, and pressing the tip directly against her clitoris...and then I turned it back on.

To 'high'.

That did it.

"Oh...Sam..."

"Is that better?"

"Oh...ah...yes..." She was moving slowly, her body relaxed, against me.

"I'm right here with you...and whatever happens is okay."

"I...uh...oh..."

"That's it...nice and easy...take your time..."

"Sam...I..."

"I know, Carls...I love you, too."

It seemed to be so much different for her than it had been with me. From the way her hands lay limply against my back, I could tell that this was more of a gradual, gentle build-up, and I was relieved to see that she was enjoying it.

"Ahh...yes..."

"That's it...you're doing so well..."

"Sam...oh...it's...it's..."

"I know it is...just take your time..."

After a few minutes I felt her slowly begin to tense up.

"Sam...oh..."

"That's it...just go wherever it takes you..."

Then her breath became uneven, and I knew she was slowly starting to climb.

"Sam..."

"I'm right here..."

"Oh..."

"Keep going..."

"Oh...I'm..."

"Don't be afraid...it's going to be _so_ good..."

"No...no...it's..."

"I know it is..."

"No! Sam! Oh..God...No!"

"Shh...you're going to be okay..."

"Oh, Sam...I'm so sca..."

"I'm right here, and I've got you..."

"But it's so...so..."

"Intense...I know it is...I was just there...don't worry...it's not going to hurt..."

"I can't..."

"Yes you can...just give in and let it take you..."

"Sam, please!"

"You're so close!"

"I'm so scared!"

"You're fine...keep going...it's _so_ worth it..."

"I can't...I'm..."

"Stop trying to hold back..."

"Please, no..."

"You know you want to..."

"Oh, God..."

"We both know you need this..."

"I can't! Please don't make me!" (I looked down at her hands, which were covering mine, but saw that she wasn't trying to push me away).

"...badly."

She was sobbing. "Sam, please don't!"

"Shh...afterward you're going to be so glad you did..."

"I can't!"

"You'll be fine...it's those three weeks of frustration trying to push their way out...let go of them..."

"Sam..._please..._make it stop!" (I would have, but she wasn't trying to move away from it.)

"You have to let go...and let it take over..."

"No...please..."

"Don't be scared...I'm right here...I won't let anything happen to you."

"...please...help me!"

"You know how frustrated you've been?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you want that to stop?"

"Yes!"

"Then let go of it. It's trying to leave but you won't let it."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can...just open up, and let it leave."

"Ohhh..."

"That's it...just let go..."

"I can't!"

"Stop trying so hard, and just let go."

"I don't know how!"

"Just let go for a minute...then it'll all be gone."

"Sam!"

"I'm right here with you while you do."

"...oh...Oh...OH..."

"That's it...almost...just lean back...and just let it happen."

"Oh...oh...please!"

"You can...you're almost there."

"Sa...Sa...SAM!"

"You're right there...just Let It Go."

"OH...OH...SAAAAAAM!...UUUHHH...AAAHHH!"

I held onto her tightly while she flailed and screamed...praying that Spencer wouldn't burst through the door to see who was murdering his little sister.

It seemed to go on forever, and I winced as her heel slammed into my shin...but I'm used to bruises. Her hands were everywhere: in my hair, grabbing the sheets, frantically clutching at the empty air around her.

Finally...she collapsed onto the bed.

I turned it off, and set it aside; and then I put my arms around her.

"Oh, God, Sam..."

"Shh...it's okay."

Suddenly she began to tense up. "Oh, no..."

"...and you're okay..."

"But...I..."

"Shh...just relax."

"No...I can't...I didn't!"

"Shh..."

"Sam...I...Oh My God!"

I pulled away and looked at her. "Are-are you alright?" I asked...but she wasn't looking at me...she had one hand between her legs...and she looked shocked.

"Oh God, Sam...I...I think I peed a little!"

I did my best not to laugh. "It's fine."

"No it's not...it's embarrassing!"

I smiled at her, then picked up the vibrator, and looked at it. "Wow, now I know why this thing is called 'The Jackhammer'! Don't move...I'll be right back."

I brought back another folded towel from the bathroom. In dark blue. "Here, lie on this, and I'll take the other one...and here's a washcloth."

When I got back into bed a few minutes later, she seemed to be more relaxed.

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'm so sorry...I know I hurt you."

"No, I needed that...thank you for helping me to...Oh, God...I'm so embar..."

"Carls, it was the first time...have you ever used one of those before?"

"No."

"So...next time it'll be a lot easier...you'll know what to expect."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I was..."

"You were incredibly stressed. And now, that's gone."

"Sam...I love you."

"I love you, too, Cupcake. Close your eyes..."

I HATE ALARM CLOCKS!

"UUGGHH!" I sat up, but a hand on my arm immediately pulled me off balance, and I landed back on the bed, looking down into her gorgeous brown eyes.

"I wish you didn't have to go."

"I know. I hate day shifts...especially on only four hours of sleep."

She looked hurt. "Are you saying you regretted last night? That you'd rather have slept?"

"How can you even ask me that? Thanks to you, I'm no longer the World's Oldest Virgin!"

She smiled, and then I felt her lips on my neck. "Sam...stay here with me today...we could pick up where we left off..."

"Sorry Cupcake, but I have to go to...hey, suck that lower lip back in! Don't worry...we'll have all evening to spend together."

"I know. Remember the 'Everything Tastes Better with Bacon' event, at Le Palais, that we wanted to go to? I got us reservations, for six, tonight."

"Yay...but why so early? You usually like to have dinner later in the evening."

"I...uh...wanted to get dinner out of the way, because...afterward...I have big plans for you!"

Who knew that such an innocent face was capable of shooting me such a devious look?

"Uh-oh...so soon, Carls?"

I felt her grab my butt. With both hands. "You'd better believe it!"

"Uh..._well_...if you_ insist_..."

She smiled, and then glanced at the clock. "You need to take a shower...but first I'm going to use the bathroom." She got up.

"Carls, do you think you could pick up my gray sweater at the dry cl...oh my God, you're bleeding!"

"Well, I expected to, after..."

Then she felt it, and looked down...and saw the amount of blood that was leaking out of her. "Oh, God!"

I shoved the towel over at her, and she put it between her legs, and hurried to the bathroom.

When she didn't return after a few minutes, I walked to the door and asked "Are you okay in there?"

"Sam...I need panties!"

I was too scared to even flinch when she said it.

As I brought her underwear into the bathroom, I saw her cleaning herself with a dark washcloth, and I noticed that she had taken her package of super maxi pads from the bottom drawer of the bathroom cabinet. She looked embarrassed, but much less worried.

"I'm calling out of work, and taking you straight to the doctor."

"No, I'm fine."

"But, Carls..."

"I...just got my period."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"But, how do you know?"

"I'm starting to get cramps...that happens every month."

"You're absolutely sure that's what it is?"

"Yes...I got my period...four or five days early."

"Wow, Carls... that must have been some orgasm!"

I wasn't easy to concentrate on work...since my mind was so full of last night; but I tried to focus on finishing, so I could get out of there...and get to dinner...and to Carly.

I looked at the clock...only forty minutes more. But then...

"Bucket! Get za hell over here!"

Oh, no.

I hated making the phone call...especially when I heard how excited she sounded when she answered. "I can't wait to see you! Guess what? I was just at the dry cleaners for your sweater...and they managed to get _all_ the barbecue sauce stains out of..."

"Uh, Carls...I have some bad news."

"What's wrong?"

"We picked up a late banquet...and JackGoff is making me stay."

"What? Why?"

"We need two hundred French pastries, for this evening."

"But...isn't that guy Chris your pastry cook?"

"Yes, but 'you-know-who' insisted that _I_ do it."

"Why didn't you call me earlier?"

"I just found out about it."

"Well...I guess I could call the restaurant, and try to get a later reservation."

"Uh...that's not the end of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Then I have to do the ordering for the weekend."

"But I thought you said JackGoff does that himself."

"Yeah...but told me he has plans for this evening."

I could hear the fury creeping into her voice, as she asked, "Well then...why didn't he let you know in advance...rather than dumping all of this on you at the last minute?"

"Look, Carls, I'm really sorry. Why don't you meet me here around ten...and we'll go out for pizza...Marioni's stays open late."


	8. Chapter 8

CARLY:

When I entered the kitchen, around ten-fifteen, it was empty; apparently the rest of the staff had left for the evening. I found Sam at her desk, scribbling something on a clipboard. Judging by the smudges of raspberry jam and chocolate on her apron, she'd already finished the pastries.

As I walked over, she got up and pulled me close, as I lay my head on her shoulder and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Carls...I know you're disappointed ...I promise I'll take you to Le Palais next week, to make it up to you."

She pulled back and looked at me, skeptically. "On which day? Is he actually going to _bother_ to give you a day off next week?"

"I have to check my schedule."

We went over to the bulletin board, but it wasn't there.

"Hmm...he hasn't posted it yet...it must still be in his office."

We both walked over to far side of kitchen, and Sam looked in the office window. "I see it...it's over on his desk."

"Well, go have a look."

She hesitated. "Uh...I could just check it out tomorrow."

"Why...is the door locked? I've never know a locked door that could keep you out."

"No it's not that...JackGoff doesn't let anyone in there...it's his private domain."

"Well, what are the chances of us getting caught...I mean, are there any cameras in here...or in there?"

"No he had them all uninstalled...to hide how much he drinks on the job."

"So, that's what the creep does here...in his ivory tower...all day?"

"I guess..."

"Well, go check it out..."

She shrugged. "I just don't think we should..."

I pushed past her, opened the door, and went in.

She followed me. "Carls!"

"Yes?"

"We're not supposed to be in here!"

"Since when did you e_ver_ observe rules?"

"But..."

"Are you going to check the schedule or not?"

"Oh, yeah..."

The lights were off, but the office was sufficiently lit by the lights shining in through its four huge bay windows, which offered a sweeping view of the entire kitchen, presumably so the bastard could spy on his staff at all times.

As she walked across the room, I looked around me. "This office is huge...there's room in here for at least two more desks."

"Yeah, so?"

"So why did that jerk stick you in a grungy corner of the kitchen?"

She shrugged.

I walked to where she was leaning over the desk, reading, looking so cute in her chef's uniform. Coming up behind her, I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Reaching back, she pulled my arms around herself. "Thanks, Carls...what's the occasion?"

"Do I need an excuse?"

"Yes."

"Uh...I love a man in uniform."

She turned around. "Ha-ha...well, I'm a sucker for a pretty face." She was smiling as she leaned in, giving me a fast smooch.

I gestured to the schedule on the desk. "So, how's next week looking?"

"I'm off Thursday and Friday...now let's get out of here."

I kissed her.

"Come on, Carls, I'm not sure how long Marioni's stays op..."

I kissed her again.

"So...what's with all the smooching?"

"I haven't seen you for thirteen hours...I'm just making up for lost time."

"Oh, okay...don't move." She pulled me to her, and then she kissed me, four or five times. "There...that should hold you over...until we get home from the restaurant."

I kissed her again

"Come on, Carls, lets go...we're not supposed to be in here."

"Since when do you care about _anybody's _rules?" (kiss)

"I just don't want to add any more fuel to his fire."

I kissed her again.

"Okay, look, there's the rest of the night for kisses...so let's go to din..."

"What's your hurry?"

"Okay, fine...here's one more for the road." She kissed me again...one of her better efforts...and then she took my hand. "Now lets get out of..."

"Sam, I hate that you have to work under that idiot." (kiss)

"I know, but..."

"I don't want him anywhere near you." (kiss)

"But..."

"And 'Bucket'?" He barely knows your name!" (kiss)

"Carls, he knows it...he writes it on the schedule...every week."

"But, then..."

"Don't you see...the whole thing is a power play. He's a control freak."

"Not to mention a bully." (kiss)

"I know."

"Sam...I wish he'd stayed in 'zee old country'!" (kiss)

"Okay...Carls...I think that's enough kissing for the moment..."

"Then why aren't you pulling away?"

"I...uh..."

"I _really_ hate that you have to work under him." (kiss)

"Don't worry about me." (kiss)

"But I do...I don't like you being within kicking distance of that jerk." (kiss)

"It's not that big of a deal."

I leaned back, and looked at her. "Oh yes it is...he's violent."

"Let me worry about that."

"Sam, I saw the man wing an entire tray of desserts across the kitchen!"

"I can take care of myself."

"Well, I'd like to take care of _him_...all I need are two rolls of duct tape...and a shovel!"

"That would be nice, Carls..."

"Man, I hate him!"(kiss)

"So do I, Carls...(kiss)...so do I ..."

"What a low-life..."

"M-m-m...yeah... not to mention a hobknocker..." (kiss)

"Sam, I see how he gets you all 'whipped up'..."

"Well..."

"...and how it kills you to not be able to retaliate." (kiss)

"Well...uh...I guess..." (kiss)

"Sam...doesn't just thinking about him make you...(kiss)...furious?"

"Yeah...(kiss)...I'd like to punch him right in the..." (kiss)

As I ran my hands downward, over her chest, her rapidly-hardening nipples were clearly discernible, despite the starch in her white jacket. "Oh..."

My hands were at her waist. "Here, you can't wear a smudgy apron to the restaurant..."

"Mm-hmm..." (kiss)

I tossed it onto the floor, then I unbuttoned her jacket, and kissed my way down her neck.

She flinched. "Listen, Frisky..."

My selective hearing barely registered this remark, as I slid the jacket from her shoulders...

"Uh...Carls?"

...and my hands moved underneath her T-shirt...

"Carls...I don't... "

...which I pulled off her...

"Wait..."

...before unhooking her bra...

"Carls! "

...and sliding it off her body.

"Carls...no!'

"Shh...yes."

"This is definitely not a good idea..."

While my lips were busy on her neck, my hands were busy with the drawstring of her baggy, navy blue, pinstriped kitchen pants, which promptly hit the floor, revealing the lobster-print boxers I'd given her for Christmas.

"Hey!"

"Shh..."

As I kissed her chest, she put her hands on my shoulders, and tilted her head back, exhaling shakily. "Oh, God, Carls...that feels so..."

"Sam, I'll bet you're not thinking about him now."

"About who...the hobknocker?"

"Yes...are you?"

"No, definitely not...," she replied.

But I still was.

Letting go of her for a moment, I spun around and, leaning across his wide, burled walnut desk, I knocked everything off it, with a single sweep of my arm: the ugly pen holder, the gourmet cooking magazines, the book marked 'Kitchen Log', the box of French sea salt...

She snapped out of her reverie. "Carls, what are you doing?"

...and then, sliding my hands under her backside, I lifted her onto the desk.

"Carls, no!"

"Shh..." I gently pushed down onto her back.

She sat up. "No! We can't! This is his off..."

"Yeah, well fuck him!"

She looked shocked at my cursing, but then shot back, "Carls, I wouldn't fuck him with _your_ dick!"

"Ha-ha...hey, don't change the subject! Now where were we? Oh yeah, Sam, this is the part where you were half-heartedly telling me to stop...and I was whole-heartedly ignoring you."

Reaching down to her ankles, I knocked off her kitchen clogs, and pushed her pants completely off her.

"Carls...I..."

"Shh..."

I pushed her onto her back, and climbed up on top, pinning her to the desk, resting all my weight on top of her, pressing my body down onto hers, and hers onto the desk.

"No...Carls..I don't want t-ohh..." she moaned, as my lips found her neck...and I felt her her hands sliding up my back, then tangling in my hair.

"Oh yes you do...stop trying to deny it."

"No, I...oh, God, Carls!" she replied, her voice just above a whisper, as I began to kiss her breasts, and my hand crept down inside her boxers.

"Shh..."

"No...wait...I can't...I don't think we should...uhhh...," she moaned in my ear, as I began to finger her.

I knew I had been turning her on, but still, I was amazed at how wet she was. I could feel her body responding under my hand as my fingers were gliding, effortlessly, up and down, but, suddenly, she flinched and said...

"No...not here...I'm not ready..."

"Shh...I had no idea how ready you are!"

"...I'm not!"

I grabbed her wrist and slid her hand down into her underwear, and between her legs, pressing two of her fingers into her own wetness, making them move up and down, under my own...as I whispered into her ear, "Feel that? Now we _both_ know."

"Please, Carls...don't..."

I cut her off with a kiss...

"Please, Carls...don't..."

...and climbed off her...

"Please, Carls..."

...and pulled off her underwear...

"Please, Carls..."

...and bent her knees...

"Please..."

...and moved her body, down, to the front edge of the desk.

"Carls, we're gonna get caught...I know we're gonna get caught!"

"You're right...I _deliberately_ left the office door unlocked!"

"Oh, God...we're gonna get caught!"

"We definitely are...that makes this all the more thrilling...don't you think?"

She tried to sit up. "Let's just go home and..."

I gently pushed her back down. "Not just yet..."

"Oh, God, Carls!"

I saw her arms splay out across the desk, gripping its edges...

...as I kissed my way down her stomach...

...and then knelt, on her clothes, on the floor, in front of the desk...

...while listening to her ragged breathing.

The first time is a little scary...but, to my surprise...I instinctively knew what to do.

"Carls...what are you going to do to m...oh, God!"

I slowly, decisively, touched her...there...with my tongue

She tasted like the sea...under a brilliant blue sky...my knees resting on warm sand, instead of this wrinkled chef's uniform, still warm from her body. Her head was tilted back, and her blonde hair was cascading over the back edge of the desk...nearly touching the floor.

"Carls! Don't!...Stop!...Don't...Stop...don't...stop...don'tstop..."

I didn't stop.

It didn't take long.

"Oh, Carls..."

(I'm right here.)

"Oh...I think I'm gonna..."

(I_ know_ you're gonna.)

"No...I can't...I don't want to..."

(The way you're moving tells me otherwise.)

"I don't want...please...not here..."

(Yes. Here. Now.)

"I don't think you..."

(Then stop thinking.)

"No...you're gonna make me..."

(That's right, I am.)

"Carls, don't!"

She tried to twist away, but I grabbed her upper thighs, with both hands, and pulled her even closer to me...not stopping...not giving her a chance to reconsider...to breathe...to think...

"Carls...I don''t...I can't...I...uhhh..."

(Almost there...)

"Oh God...oh please!"

(Now.)

Not stopping, I moved my tongue higher, and exhaled forcefully, and as my warm breath swept across her, she sobbed,"Oh...I...I'm...oh, God, oh Car...AAAAHHH!"

I felt the change in her body, as she completely relinquished control, thrashing wildly, with one arm pressed over her mouth, trying hard not to scream.

I wrapped my arms even tighter around her bent thighs, holding her still...because, from the way she was jerking around, I was afraid she might actually fall off the desk.

When she finally collapsed, I crawled on top of her, letting her hang onto me, until the final tremors subsided.

"Ohh...ohhhhh..."

"That's it...that's it..."

"...oh..."

I climbed back down, and pulled her up into a seated position at the edge of the desk, holding her close to me, letting her catch her breath, watching as she blinked back tears.

I smiled at her. "Sam."

"Oh, Carls, oh...I love you so much..."

"Shh...shh..." I pressed her against me, and stroked her hair.

"You're...so...I...you...we..."

"Shh..."


	9. Chapter 9

As I stood between her legs, which now were hanging over the front edge of the desk, I watched as she unbuttoned my shirt, and pulled me close. "Carls...I love you."

Then I felt her lips on my neck, and I tilted my head back. "I love you too...so much."

Suddenly (thanks to her), my shirt and bra were off, and her arms were around my upper back, pressing our chests together. I lay my cheek against the top of her head, and hugged her to me.

What an amazing moment! I felt that we had (finally) struck a (much-deserved) blow back against that arrogant, self-righteous, sorry excuse for a chef. But more important was how I felt about the girl in my arms, as I reveled in the knowledge of how great I'd just made her feel, and how hard I'd just made her cum, and how much she loves me and...

...holding her close, I lost myself in her...in us...telling myself that nothing in the world could possibly alter this feeling...this incredible moment...

...but then I felt her opening my zipper.

"Sam?"

"Your. Turn."

"I can't!"

"What, are you tired, Cupcake? You must be...but don't worry...I'll do all the work."

"It's not that."

"Well, then...what?"

"Sam, you can't..."

She smiled, so self-assured. "Oh yes I can...I'll bet I can out-tongue-fu you any day of the week!"

"No, Sam, not right now..."

"_You can,_ and_ I will_..."

"I really want to...but...I can't..."

"Oh...yes...you...can."

"Sam...don't..."

She gently pressed her fingers to my lips. "Shh...I'll bet you're _so wet_..."

I gently moved them away. "Well, yes, actually, but..."

"Shh...," she whispered, as she wrapped one arm around my waist, while she insistently slid her other hand far down inside my jeans. "...Carls, I'm going to lay you back on this desk, and then I'm gonna make you cum so har...oh...uh..."

She suddenly comprehended, and her hand stopped moving. It was cupping the bulge in my panties.

I looked at her and raised my eyebrows.

"Oh...yeah...forgot...sorry."

"Not a problem."

"And the first day is the worst day!" she said, repeating the little rhyme that I used (frequently), when complaining about it.

I smiled. "You got that right."

"But, if you _weren't_...would you let me?"

"Absolutely."

She was looking into my eyes...and her hand hadn't moved from inside my jeans...and, suddenly, I felt myself blushing.

She noticed. "Carls, what?"

"Nothing."

"Come on..."

"What makes you think it's anything?"

"Oh, I don't know...maybe by the way your cheeks are lighting up this office."

I'm sure I blushed even harder, as I shook my head. "It's nothing."

"Come on... no more secrets...ever...we _both_ promised."

"I can't tell..."

"I tell _you _everything."

"But..."

"Carls...just tell me...what is it?"

"Okay...it's just...I was thinking...that I really want to...and that...it's...well, it's too bad that...that I can't right now."

She kissed me. "Says who?" she whispered, pulling me closer, and pushing her free hand against my lower back, while using her other hand to press my pad up against me.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"Trying to make your day," she whispered, and then began moving the heel of her hand in a circular motion.

"Sam!"

I tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip. With both hands. "I want to make you feel sooo good..."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No..."

"Yes..."

"no..."

"yes..."

"...no..."

"...yessss..."

"...oh, Sam...I want to...you know I want to...so badly...but..."

"...okay, then...shh..."

"...but there's no way...I can't...I don't want to..."

SAM:

The way she was moving against my hand told me otherwise.

Then, suddenly she stopped.

"Carls, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." I heard her sniffle.

Oh no. I stopped moving my hand. "Talk to me."

She shook her head.

"Carls, come on, whatever it is...it's okay...just tell me."

"It's just...so frustrating...to want to...and to not able to do anything about it."

"Come here." I hopped down, stood next to her, and hugged her, and felt her trembling in my arms...

...then, sliding my hands under her backside, I lifted her onto the desk.

"Sam, no!"

"You know you want to."

"I can't! Not today."

"Why not?"

"You_ know_ why not."

"Shh.." I slowly pushed her down onto her back.

"Sam...no..."

I climbed up onto the desk.

"please..." (she pulled me closer)

"...I don't want to... (her arms and legs wrapped around me)

...stop this..." (she pulled me down on top of her)

"...I can't... (running her hands up my back)

...stop this..." (and then over my arms)

"I..."(grasping my hand, and sliding it down to her abdomen).

I kissed her forehead, and then looked into her eyes. "It's fine."

She looked like she was about to cry.

"Shh...don't worry, Carls...it's fine...really...you know how much I love you."

"Sam, I can't do this..."

I whispered into her ear, "It's okay...nothing bad is going to happen."

"But Sam, I've _never_...not even by myself...not during my..."

I raised my head and looked at her. "But you've wanted to...haven't you?"

She turned her head.

"Carls?"

No answer.

"Carls," I asked gently, "have you? Whatever the answer is...I promise it's okay."

Not looking at me, she nodded slowly.

I got my apron off the floor, folded it twice, and slid it under her hips.

"What are you doing?"

"Just in case..."

"But..."

"Shh...just in case..."

"Are...are you going to take off my panties?"

Arrgh! That word!

"Do you want me to?"

"No!"

"I won't...I promise...okay?"

She was trembling, as she nodded. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Why?"

"I'm...going to change my..."

I shook my head.

"Oh...Sam!" Then her arms were around my neck and she whispered, "I love you...so much!"

I removed her jeans slowly, to give her time to change her mind, but she remained silent, and then she pulled me close as I lay down next to her.

I felt her trembling, as I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh. "Oh please... I want you...so badly..."

I covered her pad with my hand, pushing it up tightly against her.

"...oh...God!"

I started to move, but she didn't.

"It's okay...go ahead."

"Uhmmmmuh...," she started rocking up, against my the base of my open palm.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes...oh...Sam...uhh..." Her eyes were closed and her hands were on my shoulders.

"How's that?"

"...please...don't stop..."

"I won't."

"...oh, yes...oh, please...I want...I want you to...I...do..."

Then, as I moved my hand from between her legs and slowly began to slide it down into her underwear, she froze. "Sam...No!"

"It's fine..."

"But...it's been...three hours...since..."

"Shh...it's okay..."

"Sam...no..."

I looked directly into her eyes. "We both know that you want me to."

She looked away.

"If I'm wrong...just say so."

Silence.

"Am I?"

Silence.

I gently whispered in her ear, "...am I wrong?"

"I'm so scared..."

"Carls, I don't mind at all...I know how much you want this...and I want it_ for_ you."

"...but...I'm so...messy..."

"Well...there's a box of gloves over there...do you want me to put one on?"

"Do you want to?"

"No. Do you want me to?"

She closed her eyes, and shook her head.

"Then it's okay...really."

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Not...not '_up inside'_...okay?"

"I won't...I promise."

She whispered: "I love you..._so much._"

"Then let me..." I whispered back.

She turned back to look at me...paused...then nodded.

"...let me..."

"Oh, Sam!" her thighs were shaking, as I slid my hand down into her underwear.

"...let me." I whispered, resting my hand against her.

"Sam...I...ahhh...ahhh..."

She was wet, but I'd been in my fair share of fights, and had seen (and shed) enough blood (mostly other people's), so touching her like this didn't bother me...not at all.

I pressed two fingers against her, firmly, one on each side, and gradually slid them up, near the top, and slowly began to move them, up and down.

"Oh..."

I felt the way her body was moving, trembling, beneath my hand...so different from last night.

"Sam?"

"Shh...it's okay...everything is okay."

"Sam?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No...S-sam?"

Not stopping, I leaned over, and she put her hands on the back of my neck, and then I gazed down into her face, at the way she was looking up at me, and, suddenly, it all made sense.

At first I didn't understand...at all...why she wanted this...but, until this very moment, I had never realized just how incredible it is. When someone you love is willing to be so open and intimate with you during something so...well...so _very_ personal...it is...and became, by far...the sexiest, most powerful thing I've ever experienced.

And then, as I looked into her eyes, I suddenly realized that, by being so trusting, and making herself so completely vulnerable, that she knew...we both knew...that she was willingly doing this _for me,_ just as much as for herself...and I saw all of this in her eyes, and, in my entire life, I've_ never_ felt so deeply loved as I did at that moment.

I kept moving my fingers up and down, and then, without stopping, began pressing them slightly toward each other.

She grabbed my shoulders. "Sam!"

"That's it, just hold on to me."

"I'm I...ooh..."

"That's it...you're doing fine."

"I can't..."

I wrapped my free arm around her back. "Come on...I've got you."

"Sam!"

"I know you want to...go ahead."

"I can't..."

"It's okay, just let go of it."

"I want to...but I'm afr..."

"Shh...there's nothing to be afraid of...I promise, it's gonna feel _so_ good."

"But I might...I'm already so..."

"Shh...you'll be fine... there's an apron under you...just let go."

Pushing my fingers closer against her, I continued running them all the way up and down, pressing their tips tightly together, each time I reached the top.

She began to whimper, and her hips began to convulse, and I could tell she was fighting against it. "Sam!"

"That's it...you're almost there."

"No..."

"Shh...stop trying to hold it back."

"Sam...I can't..."

"You're so close.

"But I...

"Come on...I'm right here..."

"Sam...I...I..."

"...and it's okay."

"Oh, Sam...I want to!" She was near tears.

"Then go ahead."

"I want to...but...I-I just..."

I leaned over where she lay, my face inches from hers. "Do you love me?"

"You...you know I do!"

"Then do it...Carls..._for me_..."

"But...I..."

"...for_ me_, Carls."

"Oh..."

"Come on..."

"...oh...Sam..."

"Now. For me"

"Oh...oh...SaaAAM!"

With a gasp, her body jerked violently backward, out of my arms, onto the desk, and then, as she arched her back, I immediately leaned down and let her grab onto me again, pulling her back up against me. "That's it, Carls..."

"Oh no..."

"Shh..."

"...it's...it's coming out..."

"Shh...you're fine...keep going."

"...but...I'm..."

"Shh...you're so beautiful...everywhere I look...everywhere I touch you."

Her arms wrapped tightly around me, I experienced, firsthand, the intensity of the force with which her body was convulsing as she climaxed...as every unrestrained, uncontrollable jolt and shock wave that exploded within her core also slammed...immediately, relentlessly, through me...as if we were one person, instead of two.

When she finally went completely limp in my arms, I carefully lowered her onto the desk, and, pulling back to look at her, I saw the tears in her eyes.

"Hey."

"Oh...oh S-sam..."

"No...don't cry...that was..."

She cut me off with a kiss. "Oh...I love you!"

"I love you too, Cupcake...are you okay?"

"Y-yes."

"Give me a hug."

She did. (Probably the longest one of my life.) When her arms finally let go of me, I kissed her cheek, and carefully removed my hand from where it still lay.

"I'll be right back...Don't move, and don't sit up."

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to leak onto the desk...that bastard isn't worthy..."

In the stewarding area of the kitchen, I washed my hands over the empty mop sink that was set into the floor. Then I wet an entire box of paper towels with warm water, brought them back into the office, and found a clean pad in her handbag.

As I moved next to where she still lay, and smiled down at her, she reached for what I was holding. "Thanks, Sam, I..."

I moved my hands away. "Shh...no, Carls...let me."

She looked surprised. "You don't have to..."

I leaned over, and looked down at her. "I know...but I want to."

So much love in her eyes.

I bent down and kissed her. "Lift your hips."

"Are...are you going to take off my panties?"

Arrgh!

"Will you let me?"

She lifted her hips.

I thought she might freak out, but she let me take off her underwear, and lay, quietly, while I cleaned her and changed her pad.

"Sam...did I...get anything on my..."

"No!" I said, quickly. (I'd heard it enough for one day.)

She looked confused at my outburst.

I smiled at her, and said, gently, "No...don't worry...you didn't," then leaned up and kissed her forehead.

Afterward, I put everything into a plastic trash bag...and stuffed it into my backpack.

"Don't worry about any of this...I'll take care of it when we get home."

"Sam, come here."

I walked back over to where she lay, and she sat up, on the edge of the desk. As I pulled her close, she rested her forehead against mine.

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. Y-you have _no idea_ what that meant to me."

"Carls...I'm the one who should be thanking you."

She leaned back, and looked directly into my eyes. "No! I wanted to show you how much I...I...uh...I..." She was trying to find the right words. So cute.

"I understand...completely. You don't have to say it...any of it."

"Sam...I would do anything for you...anything!"

I hugged her tightly. "Oh, Carls...you are _so_ loved...you have _no idea_ how much!"

"Well...then...how much?"

I pulled back, and looked at her. How could I possibly answer that? There are no words. "Uh...guess!"

After looking thoughtful for a long moment, she started to speak, but then stopped, and shook her head.

"Go on, what were you going to say?"

"I can't..."

"It's okay...guess."

"Are you sure, Sam? I-I don't want you to be mad at me..."

"I promise I won't be...go ahead and guess."

"Okay...um...do you love me enough to...uh...to let me...do _exactly_ the same to you...next week?"

"What?"

"Uh...your period is supposed to start next week...isn't it?"

"Well, uh...yeah..."

"Please, Sam...will you let me? Please?" I saw how she was looking at me...how badly she wanted to.

"Uh...yeah...okay...uh...I guess..."

"Sam?"

I looked into her eyes. "Y-yes, Carls...I'll let you."

"_Everything?"_

I knew what that meant: no tampons...no boxers...having to be as completely open and vulnerable with her as she had just been with me. I saw her how she was looking at me...waiting...so hopeful.

I hesitated, then nodded...knowing, even though I'm extremely nervous about it, that I really want to...and I really want her to.

"Will you?"

"Yes. Everything."

"Really?"

I had to admit it. "Yes...Carls...I...I want you to..."

I saw tears in her eyes as she pulled me close. "Oh, Sam! I want to...so much!"

I wrapped my arms around her. "I know. I love you."

"I know that...especially now. I love you, too. But, are you sure, Sam...I know you hate all that girly stuff!"

I pulled back and looked at her. "I know...but I love you...so much more..."

A/N: JackGoff may seem an exaggeration, but the character is actually based on two _very real_ chefs, whom I hope _you_ never, ever have to work for...

P.S. If you've never "done it" on the boss's desk, you're missing out on one of life's greatest thrills... (just make sure your boss is nowhere around first(!)


End file.
